


Aberration

by erunamiryene



Series: Codex: Sartoris Legacy [3]
Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Legends - All Media Types, Star Wars Legends: The Old Republic, Star Wars the Old Republic - Fandom
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-05-18
Updated: 2015-06-14
Packaged: 2018-03-31 02:47:02
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 10,698
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3961576
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/erunamiryene/pseuds/erunamiryene
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The Force is strong on Yavin 4, and it has a surprising effect on Scourge.  It remains to be seen if this change is temporary or permanent.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This started as a "what if," and sort of took on a life of its own. It may cross over with Chaos & Opportunity at some point.

The Force has always been strong on the fourth moon of Yavin, and the dark side’s tendrils are unfathomably powerful, made manifest in everything from the bestial wildness of the mutated Massassi to the fleeting silver shimmer of Sith spirits. They wrap around Scourge, a welcome presence after months with the Jedi and her followers, and he feels more at home, more energized than he has since leaving Dromund Kaas. 

It’s the crystals jutting from the rocks that he notices first, their brilliant greens and blues sparkling in the sun. He’s so surprised that he stops and stares, absentmindedly punching an attacking stoneray out of the air as the realization hits him: _I can see the crystals’ colors_. He blinks, rubs his eyes, wondering if someone - or something - is playing tricks on him.

The profusion of green catches his eye next: the wide variegated leaves on the low-lying shrubs, the delicate fern fronds, the grass crushed underfoot, the reeds in the water. Loamy ground in the cave passages is just as fascinating as the fallen leaves scattered across gray stone. It's as though someone has reached into his mind and flipped the lights back on, the world loud and bright, crisp and clear, and for a brief moment he can't fathom how he's lived without this for centuries, how he's walked a galaxy dead to him.

And finally, he sees _her_. 

For the first time, he sees her like everyone else does, instead of as a monochrome shadow, and his memories filter through this new perception: how she laughs with abandon every time she gets under his skin, the way her brow furrows when she's taking dejarik too seriously, her penchant for throwing herself headlong into everything she does.

The sun glints off the gold detailing on that ridiculous pirate armor she’s insisted on wearing since Rishi and her sabers flash blue and purple as she leaps through the air toward a patrol, losing herself in the dance of battle. So absorbed is she, so focused on her acrobatics and her relentless strikes, that she doesn’t even notice that he’s stopped fighting, standing in his ready stance and just watching. 

Her teeth gleam white, a ferocious smile curving her mouth, when the last of the Revanite patrol falls under her blades. She rifles through their packs and pockets for any information, then straightens. When she comes trotting back toward him, he sees that her eyes really _are_ the color of a cloudless Alderaanian summer sky, and in that instant, lightheaded from the wave of pure infatuation that washes over him, he knows he is lost. 

She stops, hands on her hips. “Sith, why are you staring at me?”

His mouth is dry, and though his outward mien is calm he flails around for an answer, finally stepping forward to rub a finger across her spotless face, at once irritated and enthralled with how his stomach jumps when he touches her. “Dirt on your cheek, Jedi. Do try to present a _civilized_ face to these cultists.” 

She raises an eyebrow, tries to ignore how his touch seems to linger. It’s overly familiar even for Scourge, who makes a game out of getting in her personal space just to aggravate her, his retaliation for all the times she makes him growl with exasperation. “If you say so. Thank you?”

He offers a slight bow. “You’re welcome. Shall we proceed?”

\--

The sun travels steadily across the deep blue sky as they make their way through the forest, heading for the temple approach. By the time they stop for an early dinner, she’s noticed the change in his attitude and behavior, and he is mentally kicking himself for not being more discreet.

She pulls rations out of her pack and settles against an outcropping, a knowing look on her face. “Are you going to tell me?”

He keeps his eyes riveted on his own pack as he sits next to her, pretending to search through it. “Tell you what?”

“You’ve been acting strangely all afternoon!” She sets her food aside and turns to face him. “First there was the thing with my face. Then you left me fighting a pack of lurkers alone because you were just standing around enjoying the weather or something." She narrows her eyes. "I saw you smelling a _flower_ , Scourge.” A singularly vexing smile turns up the corner of her mouth. “It was kind of cute. I promise I won’t tell Kira, because you’d never hear the end of it.” She pokes him. "What's going on?"

Over the years, he has always been proud of the deep red of his skin and everything it signifies. Now, for perhaps the first time in his long existence, he’s grateful because it conceals the flush creeping into his cheeks. He’d thought her attention was elsewhere when he’d picked that damned flower. “It’s this planet. I don’t know how, but … my senses have returned, though the effects are likely temporary.”

“Oh?” After a moment, a brilliant smile lights her face. “Oh! But that's wonderful!" 

Genuine happiness for him is radiating off of her, but he's focused on the way her heartbeat has turned into a staccato he can feel all the way down in the marrow of his bones. It’s the same thing that happens when they train, when she lets him pin her. Of course, he’s known all along that’s what she’s been doing, but he likes how she pretends she's just tired from the bout, how she always has an excuse for why she lost, how she steals glances at him when she thinks he won’t notice. 

It was she who suggested they work on fighting in tandem, the Force guiding their movements, and he knows at least part of her reason was because being near him makes her heart pound and she feeds off that adrenaline, has convinced herself that that isn't violating Jedi teachings. It was an intriguing notion before, something that gave him a little rush of pride and a bit of power over her, although he never wielded it. Now that he can really savor these feelings, now that they’re not a muted wingbeat on the far side of an impenetrable wall, he finds he’s _insatiably_ curious regarding a great many things where his Jedi is concerned.

“It’s nice to see you were sincere about the color of your eyes,” he finally says. “I was hoping you weren’t having fun at my expense.” He hides his pleased smile when this ruffles her calm exterior, can't resist adding one more thing. "Blue is my favorite color."

She feels heat spread in her chest. "Well … I mean … why would I lie about it?” She focuses her attention, laser-like, back on her thoroughly nondescript rations. “That would be silly.” Making a face, she slides the rations back into her pack. “I’m not really hungry, are you?”

He’s shocked when _not for rations_ almost slips out of his mouth, and he has to bite the inside of his lip to refrain from saying it. “No. I believe the temple approach is close by if you want to continue pressing onward.”

\--

The temple’s puzzles are solved, the information learned transmitted back to the war table for the coalition to absorb. Darth Nox and Theron Shan are already arguing in the background when Semiri disconnects. She glances at the stairs, gauging the remaining daylight. “Night will fall soon. We can either try to find our way in the dark, or we can make camp. Do you have a preference?”

He takes a breath, pretending to think it over so that he doesn’t sound too eager. “We should probably just camp.”

She nods, shivers. “I’ll set up, can you light a fire?”

“Cold?”

Her cloak rustles as she shakes her head. “No. I’m just getting used to the feel of the dark side here. It’s everywhere, like a mist, touching everything.” She moves their packs over to a flat section of floor. "This looks like a good spot."

He considers several responses as he sets up the campfire, all of which feel too forward. _It won't do to blunder through this like a bantha_. “I’ve been impressed, Jedi. You’ve been using it well, letting it guide your weapons and strengthen your attacks.”

“Thank you.” She digs through her pack for a moment, rearranges some of its contents. It’s busy work, and she’s doing it to keep her mind distracted, to not think too long on what he’s said. She’s never been the best Jedi, knows she’s too pragmatic, knows she’s too wrapped up in the thrill of combat, but being openly complimented on her use of the dark side of the Force is something she isn’t prepared to process. Neither is the pride that ripples through her when he says it.

He inspects some of the statuary in the large room, arms folded across his expansive chest, and waits as she bustles around. When she sits down to meditate, he takes his usual place next to her. It isn’t long before she speaks.

“You feel … different.” She considers. “Vibrant, almost. Because of the effect Yavin having on you?”

His fingertips tingle with anticipation, and he knows she won’t be able to resist asking if he doesn’t give a complete answer. “Partially.”

She responds exactly as he’d predicted. “Is something else affecting you?” 

Dark side energy sings around him, whispering lascivious promises of great rewards for bold actions, and he doesn’t hesitate. “You.”

Her breath catches. He feels her straighten her spine, feels her stomach do a backflip, feels her put up only the barest effort at fighting the million fluttering sparks in her chest. When she speaks, her voice is faint. “Me?”

He inhales, deep and slow. “Your hair smells of that overpriced soap you buy on Alderaan, some sort of summer berry.” A pause. “I've wondered about that. I like it. I also like how your heart is racing, even though all we’re doing is talking. It makes me wonder what would happen if I were to touch you.”

As soon as the words are out of his mouth, he lightly grasps her chin and turns her to face him, her sharp inhalation music to his ears. “I have been hit by stoneray wings, clawed by ginxes, and kicked by a Massassi, all because I cannot take my eyes off of you.” He holds her gaze for a long moment. “I don’t know how long this will last, but while I’m able … I would very much like to kiss you.”

She bites her lip, amusement in her eyes. “That’s a little un-Sithlike, isn’t it? Asking, I mean?”

The fingers on her chin tighten, just a little. "Would you prefer I not ask?" His tone is honeyed, though his words are not. "Shall I simply lay claim to your mouth?"

She forgets to breathe. _Yes. Oh gods, yes_. "No.” She makes a desperate stab at nonchalance, trying to stay calm. “I kind of like hearing you ask me for things. You should do that more often.”

His response is a noncommittal _hmmm_ as he files that information away for later before standing and holding his hand out to her.

She takes it and lets him pull her up, gasping as he slides a hand around her waist.

“Semiri.” His voice is low, thrumming with energy, and his eyes are locked on hers.

“Scourge.” She holds his gaze, though her response is barely above a whisper. 

A little closer, and his mouth is nearly touching hers. It takes great effort to not close the gap, but when he speaks his voice is as smooth as water flowing over stones. “May I kiss you?”

Instead of answering, she boosts herself up on her tiptoes, pressing her lips to his. As she drops back down she looks up at him from under her lashes. "Maybe I'll kiss you first."

“Tsk tsk,” he whispers. “Breaking the rules, Jedi.” 

He kisses her with deliberate restraint, and she melts against him as much as their armor allows. Anger and revenge have been his sole motivators for so long that everything else is almost an abstract memory, but her mouth is warm and pliant, her eagerness is palpable, and the burgeoning pressure at the base of his spine reminds him of the pleasure of wholeheartedly succumbing to more carnal desires.

As soon as his mouth touches hers, Semiri wants _more_ , wants everything she's idly daydreamed about. Her skin is humming, her thoughts scatter like chaff in a breeze, and if they are only allowed this one chance, then she will make the most of it. She wrenches herself back, eyes hot, breathing hard, sounding far more bold than she feels. “I don’t just want a kiss.” 

A smile quirks one side of his mouth. “The dark side is certainly swaying you tonight.”

She unfastens his cloak, watches it fall to the ground behind him, and then removes his shoulder guards, dropping them off to the side. “If this is Yavin’s doing, then it has extraordinarily long reach.” As she slides off first one gauntlet and then the next, she thinks back to the first night she’d tossed fitfully in her bunk, mind fixated on him, her thoughts assuredly _not_ on Jedi teachings.

He slips her cloak off her shoulders and adds it to the growing pile. “Of your own volition, then? Satele Shan would greatly disapprove.” He presses his lips to the edge of her ear, pleased when she shudders. "But I get the feeling that's part of the appeal."

“I think in terms of ‘disappointed leaders,’ Darth Marr would be far more disappointed with you.” She chuckles, unclasping his chestpiece. “Kissing the Jedi that you betrayed the Empire to help?” Shaking her head, she sets the armor aside, then skims her fingers along his now-bared arms. “Oh, he would be _livid_.”

He uses the Force to undo her chestplate while he removes her gauntlets, then slips a hand under her tunic, resting it on the small of her back and pressing her against him. "Good thing they're not here, then." His eyes search hers. "I'm going to kiss you again."

Her hand slips up, fingers splaying across the back of his head, and pulls him down toward her. "Good."


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> If you're gonna break the Code, do it right.

Semiri’s desire to touch Scourge has been a constant melody, never quite banished from her mind, since he joined her crew. Sometimes, in the middle of combat, it fades, only to crescendo in the quieter moments when there’s nothing to distract her from its siren song. She’s resisted, not wanting to be unprofessional or inappropriate ... but now he's here, leaned insouciantly against the beautifully carved stone wall and stretched out underneath her, and she can hardly believe she doesn’t have to fight it anymore. Her hand darts out toward his face, but she snatches it back before she touches him.

A smile tugs at the corner of his mouth. “Second thoughts, Jedi?”

She bites her lip. “No … I just … I don’t want to be invasive?” Even as she says it, she realizes how ridiculous it sounds, given that she’s sitting half-naked on his lap.

The smile blooms full on his face. “Please do." His next words, smooth as caramel and dark as night, makes her shiver. "I’m yours to do with as you like.” He's outwardly unruffled, but the weight of her in his lap is proving a greater distraction than he expected, and the anticipation is making him restless, his hands skimming along her arms. 

She thinks for a moment and nods, almost to herself, before her fingertips ghost over the ridges on his face, and he can’t take his eyes off her expression: wonder, desire, _need_. The back of her finger trails down the side of his cheek, and then she’s cupping his face, her mouth is on his again, her lips full and warm, tongue darting out to seek his own. Her breathless exclamation is muffled as she kisses him, as eager for him as a thirsty man is for water.

Fireworks explode in his chest as he wraps his arms around her, wanting her closer. It's been so long, _centuries_ , since he's felt this sparkling in his soul, the effortless happiness, the weightlessness of everything falling into place, and he flings himself into it, can't get enough of her.

By the time she pulls back, she’s out of breath and she has to adjust on his lap, closing her eyes as she feels him stirring underneath her. “Since the first time I saw you,” she whispers, her confession husky. “That’s how long I’ve been waiting to do that.”

“Well, I’m certainly glad you’re doing it now,” he murmurs, hands circling her waist. “What else have you wanted to do?”

She plucks at his tunic. “You should take this off.”

"As you wish.” He sits forward, reaches behind his head, and pulls at the form-fitting garment. 

Semiri is enthralled by the play of muscle under fabric, but her squeak of excitement fades when the shirt doesn't quite come off and gets caught over his head, leaving him twisting and turning, arms still raised. She tries to keep her voice neutral. "Problem?"

His only response is a frustrated growl, somewhat muffled, as he wrestles with the shirt. 

She settles back to watch. "Do you want some help?" she finally asks, her voice quavering as she tries to contain her laughter. 

"It would help immensely if you would stop laughing," he mutters, sounding far less amused.

She smothers the giggle threatening to burst out of her before she reaches behind him, hooks her fingers into the bunched fabric, and pulls it off, tossing it aside. “We'll just have to do this again, so you can practice," she says, immediately splaying her hands across the broad expanse of his bared chest. "Plus, I’ve wanted to do this since you started coming to our sparring sessions shirtless, and you were making me wait far too long.” Her fingertips dig into his skin for a moment, and then her gaze sharpens. “Wait. Why did you start doing that?”

“To upset your equilibrium, of course." He smirks at her. "And it worked.”

Sitting back, she folds her arms, stubbornness on her face. “How do you know?”

“Your racing heartbeat every time we spar? Your sudden and convenient losing streak? The fact you only lose via pin?” He shrugs. “Take your pick.” He bursts into laughter as crimson stains her cheeks and she covers her face with her hands. “I kept wondering when you’d catch on, but you never did.”

When she looks up, her smile borders on predatory, and he briefly wonders if he's underestimated her. “It appears I owe you some unbalanced equilibrium.” Leaning forward, she trails her fingertips along the ridges on his chest, mesmerized by the feel of them under her fingers. “Are these sensitive?” she asks casually. “I’ve always wondered.”

He tenses, feeling like lightning is skittering across his skin in her wake. “Yes.”

She repeats the gesture on the sets on his forearms. "These too?"

" _Yes_." Unable to hold back a shudder, he decides he’s definitely underestimated her. 

“Mm-hmm,” she says, sounding as though she's conducting very important research. “And ….” Bending her head, she flicks her tongue, warm and wet, across his pierced nipple. “And that?”

His answer dies in his mouth as his back arches and he sucks air between his teeth. His hands, which had been resting on her thighs, tighten around her leggings.

“Is that a yes?” She’s smiling, more relaxed. “I shouldn’t leave out the other, then." She bends her head to the other and he moans, pushes against her mouth, his cock hardening between her legs. 

Semiri rolls her hips once, slowly, savoring the sensation as she slides along his length. “Now, that _is_ intriguing,” she says. Leaning forward, she presses her lips to his earlobe, her voice sultry. “But we have all night, and if I’m going to violate the Code, I want to do it properly.” She catches the lobe gently between her teeth, pleased when he groans again.

He swallows hard, suddenly lightheaded, and tries to calm the raging inferno in his veins, searching for something to focus on that isn't how badly he wants to be inside her. “Semiri, will you take your hair down?”

She reaches for her hair, arching her back more than necessary just to tease him, and takes it out of its complicated bun and braid, then vigorously shakes her head, black waves cascading down her back.

He skims his hands along her ribs and cups her breasts, squeezes, thumbs her pert nipples until she’s all but quivering in his hands. She can't take her eyes off of him as he lowers his mouth to one, tongue swirling around her pebbled nipple, pulse racing as she melts into him, needy moan slipping from her mouth as her hands rub helplessly against his arms. He moves to the other, determined to hear that moan again.

She obliges as she slips one hand between her legs to caress her clit.

“Don’t go having all the fun,” he whispers in her ear as he buries his hands in her hair and drops kisses along her jawline. “I thought you wanted to take things slowly.”

“I do, but - _oh_." She bites her lip, dips her fingers into the waist of his tight leggings. “Up.”

He obediently raises his hips as she slides his trousers down, kicking them off as she stands and shimmies out of her own. She straddles him again, heart pounding in her chest as she openly stares at him. This isn’t her first time, but a few furtive encounters in the temple were hardly preparation for being wrapped in tendrils of lust that leave her short of breath, for this consuming hunger driving her every action.

She boosts herself up onto her knees, acting far more bold than she feels, and wraps her hand around his cock. He gasps when she does, rolling his hips against her.

“Ah ah, slow, remember?” She guides him to her slit, already slick, her lower lips parting easily as she sinks down just enough for the head to enter her, muscles in her thighs clearly defined as she holds herself there.

“Semiri.” Her name is a strangled groan in his mouth. “How slow are we talking?”

“Whose control do you think is better?” Her smile turns wicked. “Mine? Or yours?”

He closes his eyes, draws a deep breath, his pride immediately shouted down by lust. “If I concede, what will you do?”

“Well … I suppose I could reward you for your honesty,” she says, pretending to consider her options. “What would you want as a consolation prize?”

“You,” he instantly replies, eyes locked on her face. “All of you, unrestrained. Every gaze you can't break, every breathless gasp, every curve and swell and plane.” He trails his fingers along her inner thighs. “Every shiver.” A bit of pressure, and she’s sinking onto him, taking him in inch by inch. “Every thrust of your hips, every moan you can’t hold back.” He inhales sharply as she settles on his lap, his voice rasping when he speaks again. “Every helpless shudder as you climax.”

The tip of her tongue darts out and wets her lips as she rolls against him once, twice, and then his fingers are sinking into the curve of her ass, pulling her toward him as he thrusts upward. One of his hands drifts, fingers searching out the bundle of nerves between her legs. As soon as he touches it, her eyes widen and she gasps, grinding against his hand as he sweeps small circles around it, watching avidly as a flush creeps across her neck. Her fingers dig into his upper arms as she writhes, her breathing growing shallower with each movement. 

"My turn," he murmurs before deftly rolling Semiri onto her back, legs wrapped around his waist. With effort, he withdraws from her and sits back on his heels. His palm skims along the creamy curve of her calf, her knee, her inner thigh, as she props herself up on her elbows and watches. 

His fingers drift, maddeningly gentle on her lower lips, and a mischievous gleam sparkles in his eye. "Oh, is this ... sensitive?" he asks innocently as he rubs the pad of his thumb, callused from years of lightsaber use, across her clit. 

She trembles, trying not to pant outright. "You know damn good and well it is," she whispers.

"What was that?" He slides his hands under her ass and lifts her hips up. "I couldn't quite hear you," he says before bending his head to swirl his tongue around the swollen nub.

She hitches a breath as she tries to form words. "I, ah, that is - _mm_!"

He laps at her, spurred on by every staccato syllable falling from her mouth, the way she unconsciously spreads her legs wider before she hooks them over his shoulders. She's tilting on the edge, and he stretches out through the Force, feels how what she wants skitters just out of her reach. The line between control and abandon becomes almost indistinguishable, and he can feel the first twinges of her orgasm, can feel the tightness in her chest as her gasps rise in pitch. One more slow, deliberate circle with his tongue and the scream is going to burst out of her like a bird escaping a cage.

In one smooth movement he kneels and slides his cock fully into her, leaning forward to pull her against him. Her eyes widen at the first slow roll of his hips and she breathes his name as she closes her eyes in ecstasy, savoring each slow, deep stroke, overwhelmed as her emotions mingle with his. She can feel his heart racing, the tightness in his chest. She angles her hips, inhaling sharply as pleasure crests over her. 

"You're holding back," she murmurs, lips soft on his ear, sounding almost amused. "I can feel it."

"So are you." He kisses the curve of her neck. 

She bites her lip, embarrassed. 

"I don't want to rush you." He can feel the tremor of worry that runs through her, a discordant note in the harmony of her emotions, and his voice is low and full of promise. "I'll let go if you will." Keeping one arm wrapped around her to bring her with him, he pushes himself upright. 

The tremor fades, entirely subsumed by scorching ardor, as she locks her legs around his waist, gasping in surprise. Her back arches as she presses against him, wanting him deeper. “More,” she breathes as she squirms, each movement an exquisite torment of her swollen clit. “Oh gods, _more_.” Her nails dig into his shoulders as she pulls herself against him again.

Her fervent plea makes him tremble with need, his hunger for her driving all else out of his mind. Each thrust of his cock elicits a moan as she rakes scratches into his skin. “Do I get my consolation prize now?” he murmurs as he wraps an arm around her waist, pinning her to him.

She grinds against him, fixated on how desperately she’s craving the orgasm still lingering just out of reach. “Yes!” she cries, the words muffled against his neck, “I need it, I need _you_!” She unhooks her legs from around his waist and braces her feet on the floor for better leverage, snapping her hips into his, watching his cock disappear into her with each forward movement. 

He’s fascinated by the way the muscles in her legs are flexing, by how her breasts bounce, by how she throws her head back, the pleasure becoming a growing wave as he moves in concert with her, groaning as the pressure builds, screaming for release. Her raw, unleashed desire is a thunderclap in the Force, amplifying his own, and he buries his free hand in her hair, kisses her hard as he drives into her again and and again, their bodies pressed together. 

One second she’s still gasping with the ache of _wanting_ , and the next she’s shattering, a million pieces falling apart. “I - I’m - ah gods, yes, Scourge, yes!” She bucks wildly against him, clenches around him over and over, liquid heat drenching him as she comes, clinging to him as she shudders.

It’s the last nudge he needs, muscles in his arms standing out as he crushes her to him. “Semiri!” His hips jerk helplessly as he spasms once, twice, three times, breathless and shaking with the force of his release. 

She slumps against him, breathing hard, her legs weak. “All right,” she pants, “you might be onto something with that ‘surrendering to passions’ thing, Sith.”

He chuckles weakly. “I told you you were missing out, Jedi.” He catches her chin between his thumb and forefinger, presses his lips to hers. “We probably shouldn’t go to sleep kneeling like this.”

She heaves a long, put-upon sigh and slides off his lap in the most undignified manner possible, landing with a muted thump on the bedroll. She stretches her legs, gives him a heavy-lidded smile. “Well, come here."

He stretches out next to her, wrapping an arm around her shoulders as she snuggles against him and rests her head on his chest, yawning widely. “So … Semiri. I have to know. Did it measure up?”

She briefly considers playing dumb, but decides against it. “No.”

“No?” He sounds almost offended.

“No,” she says with a smile. “It was so much better.”

“Oh!” The relief in his voice is almost palpable. “Good. Otherwise I would have had to avenge my honor. Imagine the shame, being unable to please a Jedi.”

“By ‘avenge your honor,’ you mean …?”

“Clearly, I’d have to try again tomorrow morning, before we go back to the coalition camp,” he says smoothly. “That would be the only rational course of action.”

She’s quiet for a long moment, then takes the very obvious bait. “Now that I think about it, I’m not entirely sure you did measure up.” Pulling the blanket up over the two of them, she pats his chest. “Sorry.”

“Very well. Tomorrow morning, then, I will attempt to correct this egregious error.” He drops a light kiss on her forehead. “Good night, Jedi.”

She stretches up to kiss his cheek. “Night, Sith.”


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Darth Marr and Darth Nox have questions for Semiri and Scourge.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (well, the streams crossed. xD )

Semiri and Scourge arrive back at the main camp just before sunset and find the coalition war table playing host to a number of lively, and occasionally heated, discussions. Darth Nox looks over as they walk up, light glinting off the metal details on her imposing horned headpiece, argument with Theron Shan temporarily abandoned. “And the prodigal Jedi returns! Here I thought you’d gotten lost in the jungle.”

Semiri inclines her head a fraction of an inch, unable to keep all the sarcasm out of her voice. “Not at all, Darth Nox. But thank you for your concern.”

“Jedi,” Scourge says, “my lightsaber took some damage yesterday when I got kicked by that Massassi. I would go repair it if my presence is not required for this meeting.”

Semiri nods. “By all means.”

Darth Marr clears his throat and waits until everyone turns their attention to him. "Before you go, Scourge, I would have a word with you. Privately." His tone brooks no argument. 

Satele Shan, hands on her hips, follows this exchange. “Darth Marr, I hope you aren’t planning on breaking this truce over one person.”

He doesn’t even acknowledge that she’s spoken, and the atmosphere at the war table grows charged as he and Scourge regard each other, Semiri and Darth Nox watching them.

"As you wish," Scourge finally says, stepping back from the war table.

Nox can’t help herself. “Not even a proper address, no ‘my lord’ or a title or anything,” she says lightly. “Been around Jedi too long?” She smirks under her headpiece when Semiri’s expression darkens in irritation.

“Not at all, Darth Nox,” Scourge says smoothly. “I simply do not answer to the Council. I will, however, grant this audience out of respect for Darth Marr’s position.”

“Very well.” She turns to Darth Marr. “I’ll inform you if there are any developments.”

He nods before striding away from the table, followed by Scourge.

“And what is all _that_ about, Darth Nox?” Semiri asks as she watches them leave, concern flitting across her features before her neutral Jedi expression falls into place.

“I don’t know if you know this, but we generally don’t take kindly to Sith abandoning the Empire for the Republic,” Nox says. “Especially not ones as prominent as the former Wrath. I imagine the senior member of the Dark Council, and thus the senior governing official in the Empire right now, has a few words to say about that. I just hope your pet Sith gives him the answers he wants.”

“Pet Sith?” Semiri is clearly annoyed. “How can you even-”

\--

The argument at the war table fades to little more than a quiet murmur as Marr and Scourge reach a distant copse of trees. “So the rumors were true,” Darth Marr says, folding his arms. “I’d written them off as too outlandish to be real, that the Wrath had run off with the Jedi.”

“That is no longer my title, and I am hardly a Jedi.” Scourge mirrors his posture. “Three centuries ago, the Force granted me a vision. I sacrificed Revan for it, I sacrificed my humanity for it, I could no more ignore it than I could ignore breathing.”

“A vision of what?”

“Of the Jedi who would destroy the Emperor."

Marr’s voice is deeply sardonic as he beckons around them. “And this is what we get for letting a Jedi do the work of a Sith.”

“No one could have foreseen the lengths he would go to,” Scourge snaps. “And if you’re honest with yourself you’ll admit she isn’t as sickeningly sanctimonious as most other ones are.”

“Her … lackadaisical adherence to Jedi principles is quite clear,” Marr says, a little too knowingly for Scourge’s taste. “And her devotion to killing Vitiate is admirable, I’ll grant you that.”

There is a long pause. “We find ourselves at an impasse. What course of action are you going to pursue?”

Marr considers. “There is much benefit in you being so close to the Jedi.”

Scourge’s response is immediate. “I’m not here to play spy for you. Intelligence has agents in the SIS for that.”

“I’m well aware.” Marr thinks for a long moment. “It’s clear you aren’t being swayed by Shan or her cronies, and I’m sure that if I were to try anything, the Republic would take it as breaking the truce, never mind that you’re not one of theirs.” There’s a pause as he makes his decision. “Do not let me discover that you are actively working against the Empire.”

“A truce, then.” Scourge nods. “I wouldn’t worry about me becoming a Jedi. I can’t stomach half their ‘ideals’. Or their hypocrisy. At least Semiri accepts what she is.”

The sound of raised voices at the war table reach the two Sith. “We better get back before Nox obliterates this alliance,” Marr says.

“It’s equally as likely that it would be Semiri.” Scourge chuckles as they cross the plaza. “Like I said, she’s not the best Jedi.” He turns his attention to the two women. “If you two are going to fight,” he says when they reach the table, “there’s plenty of room over there.”

“We’re not going to fight,” Semiri growls, though the hand on her lightsaber and the lightning in her eyes say otherwise. “I just don’t understand why they can’t have even the smallest modicum of respect, that’s all.”

“We have just as much respect for you as you do for us,” Nox sniffs. “Keep that in mind.”

Darth Marr ignores both of them. “I do hope you’re planning on keeping your Jedi in check, Shan.” 

“I do hope you’re planning on keeping your _Sith_ in check, Marr,” she immediately replies, unamused.

“Of course not. It’s not in our nature, and Darth Nox is my equal, not my subordinate, unlike your Jedi here.” He holds up a hand to stave off any further conversation. “If we could get back to the actual matter at hand? Planning our attack is more important than your complaining that we don’t like you enough.”

As Semiri makes a face, Scourge takes a step back from the war table. “I will see you back at camp, Jedi. Call if you need any of us.”

“I will.” Semiri watches as he strides away, turning back to the table only after he’d passed out of her view.

An acolyte approaches the table at a near run, breathing hard. “Darth Marr!" 

“What _now_?” he snaps, turning to the messenger.

The acolyte holds out a datapad. "A message for you from Dromund Kaas.” 

Smaller conversations break out as Marr's attention is diverted, but Nox watches Semiri, suddenly grateful that her headpiece hides her expression. _Sister._

Semiri’s face doesn’t change as she pretends to study the troop movements on the war table. _What?_

_You were watching Scourge for an awfully long time there just now. And you sound extraordinarily guilty. What did you do?_ Nox’s eyebrows shoot up as a wide grin splits her face. _Did you two- ?_

_No! Absolutely not!_ Semiri’s hands tighten on the edge of the table and her heart hammers as she tries to stay nonchalant. _That’s silly!_

Nox’s mouth falls open. _You did! You broke your Code!_ A pause, and then a wicked smirk. _So … how was it? I mean, it looks like it would be great. Really, you have excellent taste._ She is positively gleeful. _Honestly, the only way you could have more flagrantly disobeyed your Order’s edicts would have been if you’d slept with Darth Marr. Or done it on the war table. Your grand high exalted one there would lose it if she knew._

Semiri’s brow wrinkles in consternation. _We are not talking about this right now!_

_But-_ Nox stops as Darth Marr steps back to the table, ready to continue the briefing. _You’re lucky. And we will certainly be discussing this at a later time._


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Semiri and crew are homeward bound. The four day trip to Coruscant is ... rather eventful.

[1]  
The first night they’re back on the ship, she wonders if he’ll come.

A single lamp flickers on her bookcase, bathing the room in golden light. A stack of discarded books sits on the small table next to her bed, each one tossed aside when she loses focus. The only sound in her cabin is the gentle hum of the ship’s engines as they glide through the galaxy.

Her door whispers open just as she’s decided that she really ought to just go to sleep.

“Semiri.” Her name is a soft murmur in the silence of the room as Scourge closes the space between them, taking her hand and lifting it to his lips for a lingering kiss. “I would have come sooner but there are some real night owls on this ship," he grumbles.

Sparks burst in her chest as she watches this courtly display, her thoughts so scattered that she can’t form a response.

“I hope you don’t mind the intrusion,” he continues as he slides a strap off her shoulder, trails his fingers across pale skin. “I can’t seem to get you out of my head.”

“Not at all,” she answers, pleased that she only sounds a _little_ breathless. “After all, I’ve gone to sleep thinking of you for quite some time now.” Her eyebrow lifts as a mischievous smile tugs at her mouth. “I have half a mind to send you back downstairs so you can suffer like I’ve had to.”

He wraps an arm around her waist and pulls her flush against him. “Truly?”

She swallows hard. “What if I said yes?” She looks up at him from under her lashes. 

He catches his lower lip between his teeth. “Then I would go.”

Her hand slips between them and she ghosts her fingers along his length. “It may be the best idea. After all, it would be a shame if the fearsome Emperor's Wrath corrupted the valiant Hero of Tython.”

He claps a hand over his mouth to muffle his surprised laughter, shoulders shaking. “Oh, indeed!” He slips the remaining strap off her shoulder and watches the thin shirt whisper along her body and fall to the ground. “If he were to corrupt you, I wonder where he would start.” 

His fingers caress the curvature of the muscle in her upper arms. “Perhaps he would first appeal to your pride, complimenting you on your fine swordsmanship." He brushes a lock of hair back off her temple. “Especially because he can’t get enough of your flashing eyes, your pure love of combat, the strength and grace of your movements on the field of battle.” Catching her chin between his thumb and forefinger, he tilts her head up, eyes scanning her face. "I expect he'd also compliment your warrior spirit, compare it to his own, hoping to quicken your heartbeat and capture your attention."

She inhales deeply as she gazes at him, fingertips absently skimming along the muscles in his back. “Intriguing. But surely he wouldn’t think that’s enough? After all, Jedi are renowned for their steadfastness, and rumor has it the Hero of Tython is resistant to such base flattery.”

"She is quite stubborn, I have to agree," he says seriously, “so he’ll have to adjust his strategy. Instead of inflaming her pride as a combatant, perhaps he will expound upon her pleasing features, telling her that her regal good looks wouldn't be out of place among the elite of Kaas City." He brushes his thumb across the scar on her chin. "After all, he is nothing if not observant, and her complex hairstyle, carefully groomed brows, and immaculately fitted armor all indicate a woman who knows precisely how beautiful she is even though as a Jedi she is expected to put aside such vanities."

Semiri silently curses the blush creeping across her cheeks as she struggles to maintain her placid expression. "Surely you - I mean, _he_ doesn’t believe such trifles will sway her completely."

"Of course not. That’s part of what makes her so irresistible." He skims his hands along her ribs, pretending not to notice when she shivers. “A woman who displays such passion on the battlefield needs an outlet for that passion _off_ the battlefield, wouldn’t you say?” He cups her breasts, savors the weight of them in his hands as she leans into him, skims his thumbs over her nipples and smiles as her lips part and her breath quickens. “The Jedi will say she must repress her ardor, must lock that side of herself away.” He nips at the tender skin on her throat, her gasp stoking the fire in his veins even more. “But she’s never accepted that ... not really.” 

His voice is silken, pure temptation, as he circles around behind her, trailing his fingertips along the swell of her hips. “Oh, she’ll toe the line in visible ways, say the right things to the right people, but she’ll find countless small ways to rebel against it because deep down, she craves freedom, a life without pointless restrictions.” He is warm against her back, a marked contrast to the ship’s cool air. She can feel his heart beating, pounding in his chest just as hers is, and when she closes her eyes and concentrates she can feel his desire, so like her own, burning white-hot in the Force. 

She shudders as his hands on her waist press her body against his and his mouth brushes her earlobe, each word laced with libidinous promise. “She _aches_ for release, doesn’t she?” Without waiting for an answer, he bends her back over one arm, his mouth claiming hers. Her fingers dig into his shoulders as she melts in his arms, her leg wrapping around his. He breaks the kiss but not the embrace. “Then she should let go and take it, don’t you think?”

They stare at each other for a long moment.

Drawing on the Force, she sets them upright and steps back. “I do.” She points disdainfully at his trousers. “I’m not sure why you’re still wearing those, nor am I sure why you’re not already in my bed.”

[2]  
The second night finds them curled up on her bed, legs twined together on top of the rumpled sheets. Semiri is propped up on one elbow. tracing meaningless designs across Scourge’s smooth red skin as he thumbs through a volume on Republic military tactics.

She is the first to break the silence. “Tell me something no one else knows.”

“I’m a world-class pastry artist,” he says, not looking up from his book. “My specialty is a delicate flaky biscuit that is all the rage in Kaas City. You can only buy it in two places: a stand in the market district and at the restaurant inside the Citadel. However, I have to hide my true identity, as the image of a Sith lord in a chef’s hat was considered, after lengthy debate by the Dark Council, to be damaging to the cause.”

She giggles. “You know, I really want to believe that. You’d be cute in a chef’s hat.” A pause, and a grin. “And maybe an apron. But nothing else.”

He narrows his eyes at her. “You just want biscuits.”

“Guilty as charged,” she says cheerfully.

“Using me for my biscuits!” He drops his book, puts a hand to his chest in shock. “So unbecoming a Jedi!” A note of faux apology creeps into his voice. “I suppose I ought to confess ... I don’t really make biscuits.” 

It’s her turn to gasp. “Betrayed! I should have seen it coming, Sith.” 

He sweeps up her hand, kisses the back. “How can I possibly make it up to you?”

She thinks, tapping a finger against her lips. “You’ll either have to go learn how to make biscuits and bake me some, or tell me something true that no one else knows.” 

He drums his fingers on his book. “I … could tell you, now that I’ve had a few days to think about it, when I had hopelessly fallen for you.”

Her mouth falls open as she stares at him.

A teasing smile curves his mouth. “Not interested? Very well." He picks up his book.

She takes it back out of his hands and tosses it toward the bedside table. “No, I am!” She coughs, knowing she sounds a little too eager, never mind that book-throwing display. “I mean, if you want to tell me, that is.”

He drapes an arm across her shoulders. “We’re on Hoth, and one of those damn Hailstorm pirates gets the jump on me. I’ve got double vision from that blow to the back of my head, staggering around trying to shake it off.”

Semiri nods. "I remember that." She touches a scar behind his ear. "That's when you got this."

“Then you come flying over me, your hair coming out of your braid, your lightsabers a blur, and _you_ … you were this luminescent ball of energy, a roar in the Force, and I couldn’t believe a Jedi could be so ferocious, could lose themselves so fully in combat. You're everywhere at once, not one of those pirates manages to land a hit, your form and sequences are perfection. And if I’d seen that as myself, as I am now ….” He stops, clears his throat. “Well. Now you know.” 

She feels a flush rising in her cheeks and a ridiculous grin spreading across her face as she forgets what she was going to say.

After planting a light kiss on her temple, he nudges her. “What about you?”

She grasps at her scattered thoughts. “You remember Corellia? The Saxan Chemical Refinery?”

He makes a face. “I do.”

“So we’re there, and I’m getting ready to disable the security console, and we get ambushed by those Sith assassins. I hadn’t even heard them when you shout ‘behind you!’ and it was the first time we’d really moved in harmony, charging the assassins at the same time, and those first two fall. And then that third one appears, and I would have been dead if you hadn’t shoved me back against the wall and killed him.” She considers. “I mean, obviously I’d been _attracted_ to you long before that, but that was when I fell in l- “ She stops abruptly, coughs. “That is, when I fell for you. Because it seemed like that was the last piece of a puzzle snapping into place.” 

Boosting herself to a seated position, she taps his arm. “All that talk about biscuits made me hungry. Let’s go raid the galley.”

He sits up, swings his legs off the bed. “Good idea. I know where Doc hides those cookies he buys on Nar Shaddaa.”

[3]  
The third day of their trip, Semiri and Scourge are in the conference room continuing their long-running combat strategy game.

"Oh, tell me you're not actually going to use the Chazwa maneuver, Sith.” Semiri is standing with her hands on her hips, eyeing the game board, which covers most of the conference room table. They’ve been playing for months and their running score is tied, so this game has become a little more intense than usual. “Guess you didn’t pick up anything from those strategy books you were reading.”

He folds his arms and scowls as he sets down the piece he’d picked up. "Have you considered that I was doing it as a feint?”

“If you were, you wouldn’t have told me so.” She smiles knowingly.

Her smugness rankles him, and he brushes his fingertips along her waist as he circles around past her, seemingly focused on the board but determined to throw off her concentration. He’s rewarded by a small gasp as she stands up straighter, turning back to face her when he feels her glaring at him. “Oh, don’t look at me like that, you’re going to hurt my feelings,” he murmurs as he tilts her chin up, game all but forgotten.

“Scourge, no, we’re in the middle of the ship and everyone’s awake, we’re going to get caught,” she whispers in halfhearted protest even as she reaches for him, heart racing when she realizes she doesn't really care at all if they get caught.

He stops, his mouth less than an inch from hers, hand resting on the small of her back. “Are you sure? Say the word, and we’ll stop.”

“Shut up and kiss me.” She goes up on tiptoe to twine her arms around his neck and press her lips to his.

Kira, book in hand, glances into the room as she walks by, takes three more steps, then stops. "No way. I did not just see that." She backtracks and stares, eyebrows shooting for her hairline. Slipping back past the doorway, she comes down the hallway again with deliberately heavy steps, glancing into the conference room again. "How's the game going?"

Semiri is flushed and looking everywhere _except_ at Scourge, who is utterly engrossed in the game board. "Oh! Well, y-you know, dead heat as always," she stammers. "Just waiting for him to finally make his move."

He doesn't look up. "Doesn't your order teach patience, Jedi?"

Her response is immediate. "Doesn't yours teach bold action, Sith?" 

Kira levels a stare at Semiri, unamused by their banter. "Can I come by later, Boss?"

"If you two need to talk," Scourge says magnanimously, "we can put the game on hold.” He checks his chrono. “Let’s just continue after dinner."

Semiri tries to stifle the brief flare of panic in her chest. “Thank you, Scourge." Turning to Kira, she beckons toward the door. “Shall we speak in my quarters?"

Kira turns on her heel and stalks out of the conference room without saying a word.

“This is going to be a fun conversation,” Semiri mutters to herself as she catches up with Kira. She closes her door as she steps into her quarters. "What's going on?"

Kira puts her hands on her hips, her expression stormy. "Something you want to tell me? Like, oh ….” She trails off, pretends to think. “I don’t know, why I found you two sucking face in the conference room?”

Semiri flushes a deep red and can’t even come up with an answer.

“You said he couldn’t do stuff like that! You said it was all a moot point, remember?” Kira is irate, throwing her hands up in the air. “That’s not the point though. The point is … why him? Of all people, why the _Sith_?”

“I don’t know! I didn’t ask to feel like this!" Semiri says in a furious half-whisper as she paces the room. "I didn’t ask to have felt this for _ages_. I didn’t ask for … whatever happened on Yavin 4 to happen!” She throws herself backward onto her bed, staring up at the ceiling. “Don’t you think it would be easier if none of this was happening?” Sitting up, she sighs. “But it is, and I’m tired of fighting it, and I’m really just enjoying being happy, okay?”

Kira’s quiet for a long moment. “Okay. I ... I just worry about you.” She sits down on the bed next to Semiri. “But I won’t say anything else about it. Or, not _much_ else about it. I mean, you know me.” She grins. “Hey, at least I’m the worst person who could have found out, barring the Order’s leadership, right?”

Semiri shakes her head. “Kryn noticed. When we were planetside.”

Kira's lips compress into a thin line as she tries to hold in her laughter. “Oh, wow. Never mind, that’s definitely worse. You’re gonna hear about this forever.” Her expression turns mischievous. “So … has it been worth breaking the Code for?”

Semiri can’t hold back her grin. “Absolutely.”

“Well, at least there’s that.” Kira stands and holds out her hand. “Come on, the latest episode of As Coruscant Turns is on, and you know Doc gets touchy if we’re late.”

[4]  
They’re only a few hours out from Coruscant the last time he comes to her room, and maybe “against the wall on the ship” isn’t the best idea they’ve ever had, but they haven’t exactly been making the most _rational_ decisions the last couple of days, anyway, and it had sounded like fun.

Semiri’s barely been able to keep quiet, and Scourge seems to have made it his personal mission to break her resolve to not make a sound. One particularly enthusiastic thrust snaps her head back against the wall and forces a single sharp scream from her.

Scourge’s triumphant look turns comically startled when someone knocks on Semiri’s door.

“Jedi?” Sergeant Rusk is outside the door. “Are you all right?”

Semiri’s eyes widen and she claps her hands over her mouth for a moment, as if to take back the noise she made a second ago. “Yes! Don’t come in!” Her voice is much more high-pitched than normal, and she winces as she realizes she sounds guilty as sin. Scourge pinches the bridge of his nose and heaves a long, silent sigh.

“I was passing back to my bunk from the galley, and it sounded like you ran into something. Honestly, it sounds like you’ve been tripping over things all night. Are you sure you’re okay?” Rusk’s voice is full of nothing but the utmost concern. “Do you need me to go get Doc?”

Her response is instant and slightly panicked. “No!” She coughs, tries for a more calm response. “I mean ….” She coughs again. “No, thank you. I’m fine. It’s just … um ….” She casts her eyes around the room, desperate for a plausible lie. “I’m, uh, reading one of these silly serials Kira loaned me.” That much, at least, is true. Kira loves foisting those terrible books on Semiri, usually with some kind of jibe about _the types of men better for you than Sith, boss_. She bites her lip, trying to not laugh. “And I … got … um, a little too into the story. That’s it. So really, I’m fine. No need to worry.”

A split second too late, she realizes what it sounds like she was doing in her room, dropping her head, face flaming, as Scourge leans his head against the wall, shoulders shaking with silent laughter.

Rusk coughs. “Those romance serials?” The amusement is clear in his voice. “Well, in that case I’ll leave you alone to … you know, _read_. Try not to enjoy the book too much, boss.”

As his footsteps fade away, Scourge grins at her. “Smooth, Jedi.”

She tries to glare at him. “It’s hard to think in this position, all right?”

He rolls his hips, looking entirely too pleased when she she bites her lip. “Oh, is it? Why is that?”

“Look, Sith,” she says with difficulty. “If you can effortlessly hold a conversation, you’re not working very hard.”

“That so?” He wraps an arm around her and crosses the room. “Sounds like a challenge.”

“Sure is.” She squeaks as he tosses her onto the bed, grinning as she assumes a mockery of her ready stance. “Bring it on.”


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A homecoming and a heart to heart.

[1]  
In some ways, the first week back on Coruscant isn’t any different than any other time they’ve been in the capital.

Doc tells terrible jokes, which never fail to make Semiri laugh, every night at dinner. Kira is eager to try the recipes she collected in the coalition camp and restocks all the cookie jars scattered throughout the house, including the two in Rusk’s room. Semiri and Scourge meditate each night, side by side and bathed in the ambient light of the city. They debate their orders’ philosophies in wide-ranging theological discussions covering everything from ancient history to current events, exchanging stories of their heroes in the process. 

In other ways, the first week back on Coruscant is an entirely new experience. 

Semiri, determined to make up for lost time, takes Scourge to all her favorite out of the way restaurants in the lower levels, insisting he try something new at each place they visit. She stops him just before they leave the meditation room, hooking her fingers into his collar to pull him down for a kiss. They “accidentally” run into each other after everyone else has gone to bed, conducting a torrid affair of the sort that normally only affects teenagers with more hormones than sense, pretending no one else knows even though by now it’s an open secret.

Each night, she asks the same question before they kiss goodnight, equal parts hopeful and fearful: _Any changes?_

Each night, he gives the same answer afterward, cautiously optimistic: _Not yet._

He can’t bring himself to tell her when he notices colors beginning to fade.

As the second week begins, Scourge invests in a finely bound volume of flimsiplast, and can be found writing in it nearly every day. He sprawls in a chair while Semiri, Kira, and Doc watch “As Coruscant Turns,” finding himself drawn into the storyline against his will even as he writes. He sits cross-legged and straight-backed in the meditation room, the scratching of the pen the only sound breaking the silence. He lounges on the veranda and trades combat stories with Rusk as yet another page is covered in line after line. Everyone asks him what he’s writing, and everyone gets a different snarky answer. He doesn’t tell anyone that it’s a journal ... not even Semiri, who relentlessly pesters him about it. Each day he searches for memories, turns them over in his mind, clings to the remnants of emotion, writes them down.

He also lies to himself and insists that said remnants of emotion aren't growing even more faint. 

After his third flimsy excuse for why he can’t go, she doesn't drag him around Coruscant anymore. Their sparring sessions become more frequent, more intense as the anger swells - in him as a necessary shell to protect himself and in her as she rails against the inevitable. They push their limits to the breaking point each time, then sit in the medbay patching each other up while Doc scowls and mutters under his breath about foolhardy sword swingers.

She doesn’t mention how she can feel the shadow creeping through him, and can’t admit to herself what it means.

[2]  
A month after their departure from the fourth moon of Yavin, he can no longer deceive himself: the effects are gone. He opens her door and steps inside. “Jedi.” 

“Sith.” Semiri can’t ignore the burst of anxiety in her stomach as she gets off her bed and crosses the room to him, knowing deep in her heart that the time for pretending has come to an end.

“Are you all right?” he asks, stalling. “You’ve been … distant these last few days.”

She doesn’t say that her mind has been consumed by worry for him. She doesn’t say how often she thinks about that night in the temple. She simply nods. “I’m fine.” A long pause, and then she asks the question she doesn’t want answered. “It’s gone, isn’t it?”

He nods. “I’d hoped the effects would remain. It appears that was ... not to be.” 

Unable to breathe normally through the weight that has settled on her chest, she swallows hard. Her voice is a horrified whisper. "I could _feel_ it happening, like ... like life was just draining from you, and I couldn't _do_ anything to stop it!" She trails off, everything she wants to say feeling inadequate. She opens her mouth, closes it, bites her lip and looks away. “I’m so sorry.”

“As am I.” He doesn’t remark on the sudden shine in her eyes. He cups her face with one hand, his expression softening as she leans into his touch. “But I will remember. The blue of your eyes. Your laughter ringing in my ears. The warmth of your skin against mine.” He takes her hands in his as her unspoken keening grief ripples through the Force. “I will remember that I love you, even if I can’t feel it anymore.”

Tears spill down her cheeks as she swallows a sob. He wipes them away before he gently presses his lips to hers.

She pours everything into that kiss, all of her affection and fear and anger, hoping that if she feels strongly enough, if she projects it forcefully enough, so will he. 

As he steps back, she gazes up at him. "Anything?" 

He shakes his head, wishing he had any other answer. "No."

Bilious, roiling hate explodes heavy in her stomach. It tears through her veins, black as the void, colder than ice. Delicate tendrils wrap around her heart in a mockery of an embrace, and a gibbering, howling cry for justice, for _revenge_ , rings in her ears. She draws herself up straighter, eyes flashing, hands balled into fists, fidgety with energy needing to go somewhere.

The strength of her enmity takes him by surprise, and he grabs her upper arms. “You need to save that for Vitiate. Don’t waste it here.”

“Then we’ll find him now,” she growls, jerking out of his grasp and starting for the door.

“Semiri, _wait_." His fingers close around her wrist. "I know this is all new for you, and right now you just want to lash out at _something_ , anything to still that scream ripping through you, and if you need to we can go toe to toe until it's spent, but first you need to listen to me.” He turns her back to face him. “We don’t know where Vitiate is. Direct this into your training, into preparation. Tuck it away, save it for that confrontation, but ....” He tilts her chin up. “Don’t lose yourself to it, either. Don’t let it consume you.”

She glares at him long enough that he’s not sure if she’s going to listen, and then all that hate comes crashing down, shattering as her face crumples and she looks down, can't let him see how her heart is breaking for him.

Her voice is barely a whisper when she finally speaks. “You should remember one more thing.”

“Which is?”

She looks up at him, laces her fingers with his. "That I love you, too."


End file.
